The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)

“Minnie!” He sounded horrified. “But you—”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “You had to tell everyone the truth of my past to save your brother from being ostracized. Do you imagine that I would have insisted on your silence, with that at stake? Yes, that scene was awful. Yes, I never want to do anything like it again. I don’t like it when people look at me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see straight.” She looked at him. “It was awful, but it was not the end of the world. And you think it means the end of our marriage?”

He blinked. “It…isn’t?” Finally, he looked her in the eyes. He looked surprised, stunned even. “But you’re angry with me. I can see it.”

“Of course I’m angry.”

He shook his head. “Then… Aren’t you going to leave?”

“Of course I’m angry,” she repeated. “Because I thought I meant something to you. And you’re willing to walk away simply because you can’t be bothered to patch things up.”

“Can’t be bothered…” he repeated in a stunned voice. He looked at her. He turned and looked at the half-packed trunks, at the pile of cravats the footman had abandoned on a chest of drawers.

“I just…” His voice was soft and tired. “I don’t understand. I hurt you. I knew I was going to do it, and I did it anyway. How can I make that right? I can’t tell you not to be angry. You should be angry. You deserve to be angry.”

This was the man whose mother had walked away from him as a child. This was the man whose father had seen him as nothing more than a tool to extract money from other pockets. Robert had forgiven Minnie for her earlier deception. But he had so little expectation of forgiveness for himself that he couldn’t even ask for it.

Minnie reached out and took his hand. “Do you know why I am furious? Because you would rather leave than try to make our marriage work.”

He searched her eyes. “I…”

“I know. You don’t want to fight. But fights don’t destroy a marriage. Not making up does.”

He swallowed. “You want to fight?”

“Yes. And I want you to say that you were terribly, desperately, sordidly wrong.”

He flinched. “I was. I know I was.”

“I want to believe you when you apologize. I want to know in my soul that you would never do anything to hurt me. I want you to promise me that next time this happens, you’ll come talk to me first, and we’ll decide what to do together.”

He was looking at her, his head cocked.

“And then, when you’ve done all that, I want to forgive you.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“But why do you want to do all that?”

“Because I love you,” she said. “I love you. I love you.”

He let out a deep breath. “You’re certain?” he said quietly.

She nodded.

“I see,” he said. And then, without saying another word, he walked out of the room.

Chapter Twenty-seven

MINNIE STARED AT THE DOOR where Robert had exited, her mind a whirl of confusion. Why had he left? Where was he going? What was she to do?

She went to the window to see if he was leaving the house entirely, took one look outside, and stepped back with a gasp. There was a small crowd encamped on their doorstep, a throng of hats in shades of brown and black forming a half circle almost three deep. One man looked up, saw her, pointed—

Minnie jumped back, her heart pounding.

If he’d gone out, she wouldn’t even be able to follow after him.

She turned back to his room. A newspaper lay on a chest of drawers. She unfolded it curiously and discovered that it had been printed this afternoon. It couldn’t have been more than a half hour old.

Duke of Clermont Authors Handbills, the headline proclaimed. In smaller type underneath, the subtitle read: Duchess Is Former Chess Champion.

She read that again, shaking her head at how bland it felt. “Well,” she finally murmured. “I suppose ‘Duchess is former fraud who dressed as boy and deceived hundreds’ wouldn’t fit. Three cheers for restricted paper size.”

The article itself was surprisingly evenhanded. The worst accusations she’d weathered in the past—monster, cheat, unnatural devil’s spawn—were absent. Her past was summarized in a short, factual paragraph. It was shocking, no doubt, but time had blunted the power and charisma of her father’s words.

Mr. Lane claimed the entire scheme was his daughter’s idea, but no evidence was ever found to support the assertion that a twelve-year-old child had been involved in the fraudulent endeavor.

She felt as if she’d opened a door on what she believed was a towering monster, only to find it five inches tall. There were things one might say about the child of a criminal. One didn’t say those things about a duke’s wife.